


The Absence of Words

by artenon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Reality, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1858323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artenon/pseuds/artenon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But the absence of words in their daily lives is never more apparent to Kageyama than when he is with Hinata, whose usually boundless energy seems subdued when he can’t express himself like he wants to. Sometimes when he can’t help himself the words burst out of him, but the poor boy has never been able to articulate himself concisely, and he uses up his one sixty-seven before he’s said anything at all and is left frustrated and stomping his foot. The first couple times it was amusing. Now it’s just sad.</p><p>[Based on the poem The Quiet World by Jeffrey McDaniel.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Absence of Words

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write a fic based on [this poem](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/179259).
> 
> _In an effort to get people to look / into each other’s eyes more, / and also to appease the mutes, / the government has decided / to allot each person exactly one hundred / and sixty-seven words, per day._
> 
> First haikyuu!! fic haha byee. All I'm capable of writing ever is fluff.

Sometimes Kageyama feels like he just drifts through his days.

His home life has always been quiet, now it’s just slightly more so. He reads the newspaper while he eats breakfast so that the crunch of his food is not so loud in his ears, and he waves instead of saying goodbye to his parents when he leaves for school. As he walks, he silently counts his steps and wonders if Hinata will be waiting for him outside of school.

He is, of course he is.

“Good morning, Kageyama!”

They’re the first words he’s heard today, and Kageyama sighs, content, something loosening in his chest. Hinata always greets Kageyama, every time he sees him (once in the morning, once during lunch, and once after school). It’s Hinata’s “good morning” that makes his entire day bearable, his “see you tomorrow” that gives him the strength to endure the last few hours of the day when he’s feeling so, so drained.

“Good morning,” he says. That’s two.

Hinata’s smile is a little strained, and Kageyama knows he wants to say more, but the day is young, and he’s holding it in. They have to part ways for class, anyway, so Kageyama communicates his goodbye by ruffling his hair, smirking at Hinata’s indignant look.

 

Class has always been boring, but it’s become even more so now that lectures are presented exclusively in the form of handouts several pages long and blocks of text on PowerPoints. They all read their textbooks without speaking, and Kageyama tries to ignore the scraping of chairs, the tapping of pencils, coughs, sneezes, the tick-tock of the second hand on the clock like a hammer. Somehow it’s so much louder and distracting when there’s no background murmur of students talking.

He writes notes to Hinata that he’ll never give him and wishes they were in the same class. He doodles on his classwork and doesn’t interact with anyone.

 

“Hey, Kageyama!” Hinata says when he joins him for lunch.

Kageyama nods and sits shoulder to shoulder with him.

They’ve all adjusted. People point to their orders on the menu in restaurants, mime actions instead of asking for napkins, or a refill. Students submit questions to teachers on scraps of paper. The volleyball team got a large whiteboard to devise strategies on, and the diagrams were confusing at first, but they have a system that mostly works now. (It helps if only one person presents his idea at a time, rather than them all clamoring over the board at once. And if no one is disrupting their strategizing to draw a penis, because _how old are you_.)

They adjust. There are problems. They find solutions.

But the absence of words in their daily lives is never more apparent to Kageyama than when he is with Hinata, whose usually boundless energy seems subdued when he can’t express himself like he wants to. Sometimes when he can’t help himself the words burst out of him, but the poor boy has never been able to articulate himself concisely, and he uses up his one sixty-seven before he’s said anything at all and is left frustrated and stomping his foot. The first couple times it was amusing. Now it’s just sad.

Right now, Hinata is restless beside him, though he tries to play it off as wanting to steal some of Kageyama’s food. Kageyama lets him.

Kageyama still isn’t used to the way the space between them is filled with silence and not incessant arguing. When they run together, the only sounds are the steady pounding of their feet, the regular huff-puffs of breath, in sync. It’s amazing how much more stamina they have now that they’re not wasting their breath on words, but Kageyama would trade the extra hour of jogging in silence for the words again any day.

Finally, Hinata has enough of the silence and asks Kageyama how class was. He doesn’t expect Kageyama to respond, usually he just shrugs because his days are always the same, but—

“Boring,” he says (three), and Hinata honest to God _beams_. “Dumbass.” Four.

Hinata sticks his tongue out at him.

They talk a little more with several lulls in between to make the conversation last the whole lunch period. They don’t talk about anything particularly meaningful, but Kageyama enjoys it anyway, because these words are only for him. In the end he uses thirty-six words (Hinata at least twice that), and then it’s back to class for another mind-numbing episode of silence.

 

He dozes off in class and wakes up to find that he’s drooling, but no one has noticed. They have a substitute teacher today for reasons Kageyama doesn’t care to remember, and even she looks drowsy as she reads a book at her desk. Everyone else is silently working, passing notes, or asleep. The very air in the classroom feels sluggish, and Kageyama blinks blearily at the clock and counts the last four minutes of class.

When they’re finally dismissed, Kageyama slowly packs up his things and drags his feet as he exits the room.

Hinata is there, waiting for him so they can walk to practice together.

“Hi!” he says, bouncing a little on the tips of his toes.

Kageyama smiles. The air around them lightens. He doesn’t reply, but nudges him gently with his arm as they walk side by side to the gym. Hinata nudges back, then flashes him a grin and breaks into a run.

Kageyama shakes his head and sprints after him. They arrive at the gym at the same time and barrel through the doors. As they stand there, panting from the exertion, Kageyama gives Hinata a less gentle nudge for getting a head start. At least some things haven’t changed.

Tsukishima shoves roughly past them, scowling. He hasn’t changed that much, either. Words were always his weapon, and now that he has limited ammo, he’s become subtly more aggressive, but he’ll still sneeringly call Kageyama “king” sometimes, when something sets him off and he starts gesticulating furiously at his teammates. The taunt slices through the silence, reverberates in the gym, and Kageyama freezes and stares at the ground, clenching his fists.

They resume play in silence, but it’s the quiet playing that bothers him the most. The squeak of shoes on the floor, the sharp exhalations of breath, Kageyama is hyper-aware of them all. He knows where everyone is on the court, and he always knows exactly where to toss the ball. If anything, his concentration should be heightened, but sometimes the lack of words presses heavily down on him, because there’s no one calling for the toss, so what if one day he tosses back and no one is there—

But Hinata is always there.

“Here!” he calls sometimes as he leaps, and acts like it was involuntary, a slip-up, silly Hinata, but Kageyama knows better. Hinata is a lot more perceptive than he lets on, or maybe more than he knows, because Kageyama isn’t sure if the way he’s always reassuring him is deliberate or unconscious.

 _I’m right here_ , Hinata is saying, like the first time he urged Kageyama out of his paralyzing fear of tossing back. _I’m not leaving._

 _I’m so glad to see you, always_ , he says with each greeting, every time he sees Kageyama (once in the morning, once during lunch, and once after school).

Kageyama loves him so goddamn much.

In the locker room, Hinata lingers after changing, so Kageyama does too, until everyone else has left and it’s just the two of them.

“You’re amazing, you know,” Hinata blurts once the door has swung shut after the last of their teammates with a resounding slam. “I hate that I can’t tell you more often. Tsukishima’s an ass. I’m so glad I have you tossing to me, and I know I swore I would defeat you, but it’s so much better when I’m playing _with_ you. The view from the top is better. I don’t want to be on the opposite side of the net from you. I want to stay with you, I—”

He cuts off abruptly, and Kageyama knows he must have used the rest of his words earlier that day, at lunch, on his little sister, on Yachi, other people he loves to make happy. Hinata bites his lip, looking annoyed, and Kageyama smiles.

“Dumbass,” he says.

Hinata pouts at him, like he thinks that was a waste of Kageyama’s thirty-seventh word of the day, but Kageyama never wastes any of his words. He likes to save them all for Hinata. Instead of telling him this, Kageyama just takes Hinata’s face in his hands and kisses him.

Hinata’s lips are soft and willing and the kiss is lingering and sweet, but Kageyama thinks he likes it better when the little brat would just continue talking right over the kiss, even if back then he thought it was annoying.

“I love you,” he murmurs when they pull apart. It was hard to say at first, but now it comes easy. It’s easier, at least, than explaining that Hinata has already defeated him, the old him, tore him apart and remade him into someone better, or trying to convey to Hinata just how much he appreciates him, and so he repeats it another forty-three and one-third times, slow and deliberate, kissing him in between and imagining that Hinata’s soft breaths are him saying it back.

There’s no one else he’d rather spend his words on anyway.

It’s dark by the time they finally leave the gym, the stars twinkling overhead, and Hinata has no more words left to say “see you tomorrow,” but he squeezes Kageyama’s hand and presses his lips to his cheek, and that’s enough for him, at least until tomorrow.

 


End file.
